Killing June

by May Bridges

  “It’s not like that, Becker. Come back to my place with me. We can hang out, smoke, whatever. I just want to talk.”

  He eyed me for a moment. “Rob tells me you’re working for him now. That true?” he grunted.

  It was that statement that let me know I’d been holding out some hope for Robert. I knew it because hearing it still hurt. “We had some business together. If you don’t want me to tell him you came over, I won’t. You don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Fine. Let me get my shit from the back. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Relief and dread collided in my chest when he agreed. I’d get my chance to hash this out, but I might be over my head alone with him.

  “Heading out?” Joe asked me when I threw a ten down on the bar to pay for my double shot.

  “Yeah, see you around,” I said, while inside hoping after that day, I wouldn’t see Joe around. Hopefully, I’d never have another reason to walk into his bar. Hopefully, June would die that day.

  “Be safe, Doll,” Joe said, waving.

  The sun was almost set when I got outside, and the autumn air was starting to cool. My leather seats were still uncomfortably warm on the backs of my legs. Becker came out carrying a little black leather bag, like a men’s shaving kit. I knew exactly what that was. Meth-heads are seldom far from their stash and pipe. I waved him over.

  “Nice ride,” Becker said, flopping down into the seat. “Them boys must be paying good for a piece of ass.”

  The choking sound I made was meant to come out as a laugh.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My hand shook trying to get the key into the loft door. I managed it after a moment and we both stepped into the dark open space. I flipped on every light I had and it still didn’t make the space bright enough to make me comfortable. Becker made himself at home, pulled up a stool, and started taking things out of his little black pouch. I pushed against the S&W in the back band of my jeans. It gave me some comfort knowing it was there.

  “Been a long time, Alexandria,” Becker said, without looking up at me. He was too concerned with the meth pipe in his hand.

  I headed into the kitchen to get a glass and pour myself a drink. “Yeah, I thought you moved a little further away.”

  “Back to Iowa for like eight months after me and your aunt split. Ended up in Lancaster when I got back,” Becker explained.

  I could hear the hiss of the small butane torch Becker was using. I would, under any other circumstances, object to someone smoking meth in my loft, but from experience I knew it was best to let him. It made him more malleable, and I needed that. The smell—a mix of burned, sour, and cat piss—hit me when I walked back to the bar.

  “You want a hit?” Becker asked, holding out the glass tube.

  “Naw, I’m good.” I took a drink from my glass.

  “Thought you wanted to hang out and get high?”

  “I’m fine drinking. I popped a few earlier, so I’m feeling good already.” It was a lie. I felt so far from good. Good was another planet in a different galaxy. And I hadn’t had anything but the double shot at the bar. My Valium supply was running dangerously low, and I’d be damned if I was asking for a re-up from Robert now.

  “Whatever.” Becker shrugged and took a hit.

  “Hey, so can we talk about some things?” I asked. Becker eyed me, looking down the length of his pipe at me, but didn’t respond. “Tell me why, Becker.”

  “Why what?” he barked out. “You’re all the same. Dumb cunts that tease us and then want to know why we took what you were putting out there.”

  My body was shaking, wanting so much to release the anger that built as I watched him take another hit. I was a young girl, a teenager who was certainly never putting anything out there for him. “I never did that, Becker. I never teased you. I tried to stay away from you.”

  “Bullshit. You think I don’t remember those little shorts you used to wear when you would come over. You act like I hurt you, but I didn’t. I was always gentle with you, Alexandria. I was always gentle.”

  My throat felt raw and dry. I tried to swallow back the rising bile, but it only hurt more. It took everything in me to stay where I was and not completely lose myself in that moment.

  “What difference does it make, Alexandria?” Becker continued, putting away his pipe. “You ended up as a damn hooker anyway. Bet your perfect little family loves that, right? Get rid of Becker because he’s a druggy, just to have their perfect princess end up a whore. I’m sure I touched you nicer than half the boys Rob sells you to.” Becker looked across the bar at me, looking me in the eye for the first time that night. “I bet you’re a lot better now than you were then.”

  “You wanna find out?” I asked.

  A spark registered in his iced-over stare. “I knew you always liked it.” Becker’s lips parted into a sick grin. “You said you didn’t, but I could tell you were wet for me.”

  I rounded the bar and took Becker’s hand, leading him to the bed. He sat on the edge and I brought up the length of chain from the floor.

  “Robert said you were into kinky shit. What’s the chain for?” he asked.

  I held up the cuffs. “For you.” He looked at me and then the cuffs. I could see that he was too high to really put it all together. “This is how I play now. So if you want to play, let me cuff you.”

  He held out his wrist to me, laughing and licking at his dry, cracked lips. I felt a new kind of satisfaction when the cuffs click closed. From the cabinet I took a long length of cane.

  “Are you going to get naked for me? I wanna see those tits now that they are all grown up,” Becker said.

  “I’m sure you do,” I commented coolly. “Was I the only one, Becker?”

  Becker rubbed his cuffed hands down the front of his jeans and squeezed at his crotch. “Girls always want to hear that they were the only one, huh? Your aunt used to ask me that. Would it make you happy if I told you that you were my favorite?”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” I flashed the length of cane in front of his face. “Quit with the BS and give me answers, Becker. Life is about to get painful for you if you don’t.”

  I saw some recognition of the implications of what I was saying register in his fried brain. His eyes widened and he pulled back from the cane.

  “I knew you wanted to fuck up my high,” Becker spat. “Can’t we play nice, little Alexandria? I meant it when I said you were my favorite.” Becker closed his eyes for a moment, looking lost in his high. “I found one that reminds me of you. When she hides her face, sometimes I pretend it’s you.”

  My brain felt slow, listening to what he was saying, but the pieces were snapping together. “Who is she? Are you still messing with her?” I felt frantic.

  “You jealous? Don’t worry. She is nice to touch, but she isn’t you,” he said, looking me over. His eyes dragged down my body and his lip curled up, exposing his yellow rotting teeth. “No, that little one isn’t you.”

  I brought the cane down across the right side of his body. Becker bent in half, letting out a hiss, and grabbed with his cuffed hands for the cane, but it and I were out of his reach. “Fuck was that? Stupid bitch.”

  “I asked you who she is.”

  When I raised the cane again he held up his hands. “Okay, I met this bitch Brandy. She buys crack from me. She brought her daughter with her to a buy one day. Cute little thing, likes to wear shorts that let her ass hang out like you did. I told Brandy that her and the kid could move in for a while—”

  I couldn’t hear the rest of it. I didn’t need to. He was doing it again. He was touching some other little girl. Fucking up the years of her life that should hold the best memories for her. I couldn’t. My world went black with rage as I brought the cane down on him again and again. There was no sound. All I saw was my target. Life was a bubble where only my anger and the object of it existed.

  I felt the wet drops of Becker’s blood hit me when I drew the cane back over my head. I do
n’t know how many times I swung. I just kept swinging. Becker brought his hands over his head and waved them wildly, trying to take the cane between his cuffed hands. I watched the cane connect with his forearms several times.

  My world, my bubble, was tipped sideways when Becker was finally able to grab the end of the cane and yank it forward, pulling me with it. Before I could get further than the chain would let Becker go, he grabbed onto my shirt. He fell forward, off the bed, and crushed me to the floor under him. My S&W was pinned underneath me.

  I struggled, punching and thrashing, trying to get out from under him. Blood from his battered head showered down on me in droplets of crimson. His weight was too much for me to throw off, and I couldn’t lift up enough to get my gun.

  I didn’t truly panic until his hand clamped down around my throat. He pushed forward, crushing my neck as I scratched and gouged at him. I felt my lungs burning. I couldn’t inhale. I couldn’t exhale. I knew I was fucked when the lights started to flicker. My hands clawed at him, everywhere they could gain purchase.

  Down by his waist I felt hard metal hit my hand. I felt a metal hilt and hoped the knife attached was something more than a dinky pocket knife. I scrambled for it, palming it, and without much thought or aim, I sunk it into his side. Becker released my throat instantly and rolled off me, reaching for the knife I’d left protruding from him.

  I sucked in as much air as I could in one gasp. My hands slipped on the bloody hardwood floor as I scrambled backward. By the time my back hit the wall, Becker had pulled what turned out to be a four-inch hunting knife from between his ribs. He lunged for me and was brought back down to the floor with a loud thump when the length of chain ran out.

  He threw the knife at me, but his hands were still cuffed and the throw wasn’t effective. The knife hit the ground and slid toward me, stopping at my feet. He pushed himself up against the bed, blood running from his head and arms, soaking through his shirt. A constant stream of profanity poured from his mouth. He was still yelling when I pulled my S&W and pointed it at him.

  I remembered sitting there like that not so long ago. Back against the wall, knees bent, gun in hand. I hadn’t wanted to shoot then. I did now. I wanted to wipe the world of that vile man. I wanted to save that other little girl, because no one saved me.

  “Tell me you’re sorry,” I screamed at him. “Tell me. I want to hear it first.” My hands shook, and slick with Becker’s blood, it was hard to keep a grip on my gun.

  “Fuck you, stupid cunt,” Becker spit back.

  My ears were ringing, my heart pumping, chest heaving. Too much adrenaline. I pulled back the slide and took the safety off.

  I heard the door to my right open and Becker’s attention was pulled away from me. I didn’t want to see who was there. I wanted Becker to tell me he was sorry, and then I wanted it all to end.

  “Just say it,” I begged. “I deserve to hear it before you die.” The words were broken in sobs.

  “Alex.” A stern baritone voice broke into my bubble. I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want him there. He wasn’t supposed to be there. “Alex, look at me,” he said again.

  I shook my head and kept my eyes on Becker. “Go away, Cade.”

  “I can’t do that, brave girl.”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not brave. June is and I’m trying to kill her too.”

  I felt Cade crouching down beside me, but didn’t take my eyes off Becker in order to look at him. “This isn’t going to make you better,” Cade said softly. “This isn’t who you are. You don’t really want to kill anyone.”

  I shifted my grip on the gun. I could feel Becker’s blood getting sticky as it dried on me. “He is still doing it, Cade. Still hurting little girls. Now, Becker has something to say to me.” I wiped the tears from my eyes on the sleeves of my shirt. Not because I was ashamed of crying, but so I could clearly see my target.

  Becker’s hands were pressed to his side and he was breathing heavy, starting to slump over. His eyes were wide and he was looking to my right, at Cade, I assumed.

  “I’m going to bleed out, Alexandria. That what you want?” Becker said to me.

  “No, I’d prefer to shoot you, but I want you to say it first. Tell me you didn’t mean it, that you’re sorry. I’ll let you pray first. Tell God you’re sorry, too. Maybe you can still go to heaven.” I wasn’t yelling anymore. I couldn’t. I didn’t feel enough to have those emotions. I was numb. Resolved and numb.

  “I’m not fucking sorry. You were fucking wet. You wanted it,” he shouted.

  I squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out.

  Chapter Twenty

  My shoulder smashed into the floor. My gun fell from my hands and spun on the hardwood. Cade was on top of me, but I didn’t fight him. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I had nothing left to fight with. I lay there, staring at Becker, willing him to die.

  Cade grabbed my wrist and pushed my aim left of Becker before I got the shot off. I think it lodged into my mattress beside him. No matter, I thought, he may bleed out from the stab wound before he gets help anyway. It wasn’t a satisfying feeling, more like a statement of fact. I didn’t feel anything.

  I saw Sean bend down in front of me and pick up my gun. I hadn’t even realized he was there. Cade sat up and pulled me off the ground with him. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want him to see me that way, dead and cold inside, covered in Becker’s blood.

  “I want you to take her home, Sean,” I heard Cade say.

  I knew he was right next to me, but it was like I hearing everything through a tunnel, them on one side, me on the other.

  Sean crouched down in front of me and reached out for my hand. “Come on, Alex. I need you to walk with me.”

  I took his hand, got up, and followed his simple instructions.

  He walked us toward the back sliding door “Can you climb down the fire escape? I can’t walk you through your building covered in blood,” Sean said.

  I nodded and followed him down. Before the railing blocked my view, I saw Cade bent over Becker with the hunting knife in his hand.

  Sean took me to my apartment in Highland Park. The drive there didn’t really exist in my head. I didn’t remember it. One moment I was looking at Cade standing over Becker, and the next I was in my living room. Sean took me into the bathroom and turned on the shower for me.

  “Can you get undressed yourself?” Sean asked.

  I heard the question, but it was like I was too dead inside to function. I stood there staring at the seashell-patterned shower curtain.

  “I’m going to help you, okay?” Sean said after a moment.

  He lifted my arms and pulled my shirt over my head, like undressing a child, then worked the button on my jeans and pulled them down. I steadied myself with his shoulder and stepped out.

  “I’m going to take your bra off, Alex,” Sean said when he reached around me. “You have to get in the shower. Do you want to leave your underwear on?” he asked, crouching down some to look at my face.

  I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t even care enough to want to wash the blood off. Still, some part of me registered that I couldn’t stand there motionless forever. I reached down and pushed my underwear off my hips. Sean helped me into the shower and pulled the curtain closed.

  He stayed in the bathroom while I showered and I thought I could hear him talking to Mr. Heart. A few sensations were starting to register, an ungodly pain in my shoulder for one, but not much else.

  When I got out, Sean had my green robe open and waiting for me to slide into. “Having trouble lifting your arm?” he asked.

  I shrugged my response with the other shoulder and let him lead me back to the bedroom.

  “It’s dislocated.” Sean said, after poking and prodding at it. “I need to put it back in place, okay?”

  He laid me back on the bed and wrapped his hand around my arm. I heard a pop and felt razor sharp pain spread out from my shoulder. I clutched it to me, rocking back and forth
in a ball.

  When I stilled, Sean pulled the covers back for me, but I didn’t think I could sleep. The initial rush of adrenaline was spent, but I felt suspended in numb wakefulness. Sean sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a small bag from his backpack. It looked like Becker’s black meth bag, but I saw that Sean’s had syringes in it.

  He pulled one out and popped the cap off. “This is going to help you sleep,” he said, holding it up so I could see. “When you wake up we can get you something for your shoulder, but you’ll sleep through the pain with this.”

  Maybe it should’ve concerned me that the local thug’s helper was going to inject me with something, and I had no clue what it was, but it didn’t. The clear liquid burned almost as much as my shoulder as it flooded through me. When he was done, he pulled the covers up over me.

  “You’re gonna be okay. You know that, right Alex?” Sean looked down at me, his dark brown eyes searching my face, but I didn’t answer.

  “Are you leaving?” I asked when he started to stand.

  “I was going to wait in the living room.” He sunk back to the bed.

  “Can you stay here?” As if agreeing with me, Heart jumped up onto the bed and stepped onto Sean’s lap.

  “Of course I can. Let me get a towel, I’ll dry your hair for you.”

  I watched Sean walk to the bathroom and return with a big blue towel, Heart weaving in and out of his legs the whole way. He sat next to me on the bed and ran the towel through my wet hair. I didn’t fight it when my lids pulled closed. I had nothing left to fight with.

  * * *

  My shoulder was a blaze of pain when consciousness found me again. It was the first thing I was aware of when my eyes fluttered open. The second was Cade. I could feel him in the room, his presence, and I knew his dark eyes were on me. When my eyes focused, I saw him sitting on the wood rocker in the corner of my room, watching me. It’s the worst kind of déjà vu.